Moment of Zen: The Piano

A Letter to A Bully

I read this the other day, and really wanted to share it with you guys.  It broke my heart.  I think we have all had that feeling of hopelessness at some point, and thankfully we survived it, not all kids do. Kergan Edwards-Stout wrote this compelling letter, and I hope that you find it as interesting as I do.

Dear Dirk,*

The thought of you has filled me with hate almost every day since we first met -- but for different reasons altogether than you might expect.

I still remember the terror I felt every time I approached the soccer field. It was in junior high, a difficult time for almost everyone, but especially for me.

You see, I'd always known I was gay. Even in kindergarten, just looking at Jeff Hayward's smile would make me happy, and I knew intrinsically that it was all right to feel this way -- to love other boys -- as everything about it felt completely natural and unforced.

In junior high, however, I was placed on the same soccer team as you, and everything changed.

What I had seen as natural and good, you were suddenly calling abnormal and detestable. Every "faggot" you spit toward me hit directly between the eyes, and the whispers, taunts, and dirty looks you and Mike Baker sent my way continually unnerved me, affecting both my sense of self and my performance on the field. Because of you, questions about my masculinity hovered over me, and I would feel physically ill at the thought of another practice or game. I would choose different, roundabout paths to my classes, just to avoid where I knew you'd be.

In high school, while I went on to be active in theater and academics, you and Mike continued to rise socially, becoming the big men on campus that I'd longed to be. You were even voted onto the homecoming king's court, and as you took to the field, flashing your charming smile, all I could see was the sneer on your lips when you turned and glanced my way.

But that isn't why you fill me with hate.

Just prior to our senior year, during summer break, word came that you'd tried to commit suicide and were in a coma. No one knew what had happened, but you eventually returned to school our senior year. You were just as popular as you had been before, and perhaps even more so, now that you had this added air of intrigue about you. But despite your outright hatred of me, I still wondered about you and about what could have possibly led you to try to take your own life. You more than anyone seemed to have it all, and despite the way you continued to torment me, I felt a pang of pity for you.

The following summer, I got another call. You'd again tried to kill yourself, tying a noose from the garage rafters -- only this time you succeeded. Your mother discovered you, hanging there, upon her return home.

How lonely you must have felt, Dirk, as you tied that rope. Could you really see no path forward? Was there no one you could have reached out to? Was there no friend, family member, priest, counselor -- not one person you could've trusted with your pain?

Later, I heard that you'd left behind a note, writing that although you did not like girls, you did not want to like boys. And suddenly it became horribly clear to me. You and I were exactly alike. That anger and venom you directed at me, you were also directing at yourself.

How I wish, Dirk, that you'd allowed yourself to connect with me. I'm not saying that a friendship between us could have altered your path, but just knowing that we weren't the only ones could've made our lives easier. For me, discovering that there were other gay people out there did help. I found a progressive bookstore, not too far from where we lived, and I'd covertly journey there as often as I could, just to lose myself in reading about a world that I knew I'd someday enter.

And even if a friendship between us wasn't possible, given our differing social status, imagine how less torturous you could have made another's life, simply by being kind.

While in school, my hatred was based solely upon how mean you were to me. Now my anger is reserved for the lack of value you placed upon yourself. Clearly, you didn't think you were worth loving. Where did you get such a message? You were smart, personable, an exceptional athlete, and beyond handsome. Even with all the venom you sent my way, I still admired your more affirming qualities. Regardless, despite these many gifts, somewhere along the way, you were taught that instead of acting on your love of other men, you'd be better off dead.

I hate that you hurt so, Dirk, and hate just as much that you listened to those who filled your head with such thoughts.

I also hate that I was so absorbed in and blinded by my own situation that I couldn't see your venom for what it really was. What if, one day, instead of running the other way when I saw you, I had instead offered you a smile?

Dirk, you might be surprised to know whom I ran into at our high school reunion: your old pal, Mike Baker. Imagine my shock, spotting him across the room, when we suddenly locked eyes. I immediately went to that same place of fear and panic, but that only lasted a moment, until I saw him break out into a big grin and make a beeline toward me.

I was shocked when he warmly clasped my hand in his, as if we were longtime friends. "I've been looking all over for you," he said, intently. "I've really been wanting to say 'hello.'" While he never brought up our shared past, it was clear to me that he was making amends.

Did you know, Dirk, that Mike's younger brother has come out as gay? Would it surprise you to know that Mike is totally OK with it? If you had known back then that your best friend might have been accepting of you, could that have possibly altered your decision?

People loved you, Dirk -- then and now.

I wish I could have held you, Dirk, comforted you, and told you that everything would be all right. Our individual uniquenesses are a gift, given by our maker, which we then get to share with the world. Your void is noticeable, even 20-odd years later.

You could've done so much, Dirk, if only you'd realized that each one of us is deserving of love and respect.

Wishing you peace,

Kergan

*Though innocence for all was lost some years ago, in respect of their families, all names have been changed.

This piece originally appeared on the Bilerico Project and KerganEdwards-Stout.com.

Drama

Not a whole lot has been going on this week, and so I haven't found much great inspiration for a post today, at least not one that can be done quickly. Probably, the most exciting thing this week that has happened for me personally is that I was asked a few weeks ago if I would be the advisor for a new drama club at school and I have been working on that this week. I am really excited about it. It's going to be a lot of work for me, but I look forward to the challenge. We are hoping to have a plan in place for when school starts next year.

This week I have been working on a plan of action so that it can be presented to the students and get some interests generated. At first, I want to put together a few fundraisers that will not be too expensive to produce. We have a lovely mansion near the school where we may be able to have a murder mystery dinner night. The kits for the murder mystery nights are not too expensive and I hope to be able to adapt one so that we can have a little local flavor to it. The mansion where we hope to host it has an old legend that it is haunted (actually by two different women who had unhappy lives in this house). The second of the two women may have even possibly been murdered after a dinner party. I think it will be a fun and fantastic fundraiser. We are hoping to have it sometime near Halloween.

We actually have a beautiful stage at school, but currently the lighting does not work, so they will have to be fixed before we can stage our first real production. I hope the murder mystery night can raise the funds to fix the lights. Then I am hoping that we can have a series of comedy skits that can be our first production. I think that we can do a night of a "thousand" laughs or something similar that can be a relatively inexpensive first production so that we can generate funds for a larger show next spring.

I certainly think that we will have some interest and I hope the interest will grow. I do not have any real experience with theatre, so any suggestions would be greatly appreciated. Do any of you have any experience with productions?

To say that I am excited about this would be a bit of an understatement. Even though I am not out at school, I guess I don't have the ruggedness that the other men/coaches at school have. Everyone I know who I have told about starting a drama club seems to think that it is natural that they would look to me. Even though I'm not out, I think the gay stereotype is still there. Oh well, I am going to enjoy it anyway, no matter what they think.

The Kiss of Life

Rocco Morabito won the 1968 Pulitzer Prize for Spot Photography for this photograph – “The Kiss of Life.”

Apprentice lineman J.D. Thompson is breathing life into the mouth of another apprentice lineman, Randall G. Champion, who hangs unconscious after receiving a jolt of high voltage.

Morabito was driving on West 26th Street in July 1967 on another assignment when he saw Champion dangling from the pole. He called an ambulance and grabbed his camera.

Champion recovered.

I published this post once before, over a year ago, but it is still a favorite photo of mine (and so is the story). I thought that it was worth posting again.

APRENDIENDO VIDA (Learning Life)

I recently came across a new poet.  He is a follower of my blog, so I checked out his blog, ALICANTINO del MUNDO. His poetry shows not only the beauty of the Spanish language but the depths of an artists soul. Manuel Vicente S.C. is the poet, and I instantly fell in love with the beauty of his poetry. I hope that you will find Manuel's poetry as beautiful as I have. I have posted his poem APRENDIENDO VIDA in its beautiful original language.  Though I do not believe that my translation (with the help of Google Translate) can do justice for his beautiful prose, but I have attempted to do my best.  I hope that you enjoy.

APRENDIENDO VIDA
Manuel Vicente S.C.

He recorrido muchos caminos
donde he respirado polvo ajeno que levantaban otras vidas
que pasaban rozando la mía
y yo siempre quedaba en la cuneta esperando una buena alma
que se apiadara de mi cuando el barro ya me cubría hasta las rodillas.
Pero aprendí a buscar guaridas
cuando la luna me sorprendía en los caminos solitarios.
Aprendí a cobijarme al abrigo de otros cuerpos
cuando el frío me calaba hasta los huesos.
He dormido en muchas camas extrañas
a las que nunca volví.
He grabado muchos ojos en mis pupilas.
Ojos por los que hubiera matado.
He amanecido en calles extrañas y
me he bebido el licor de todos los bares.
Muchas veces he jurado en vano
y he asegurado delante del interesado
que nunca volvería a hacerlo.
Pero nunca cumplí mi palabra.
Volví a tropezar mil veces en la misma piedra.
Volví a recorrer caminos inciertos, vacios, cotidianos
y volví a llenarme de luna llena.
Busqué los caminos que llevan al mar
intentando buscar un refugio.
Intentando dejar mis huellas en la arena por si tú salias a buscarme.


LEARNING LIFE
Manuel Vicente S.C.

I have traveled many roads
where I breathed dust that raised other lives outside
mine that skimming
and I was always in the gutter waiting for a good soul
to take pity on me when the mud already covered my knee.
But I learned to look for hideouts
I was surprised as the moon on lonely roads.
I learned to take shelter in the lee of other bodies
when the cold was soaked to the bone.
I slept in many strange beds
of those who never came back.
I recorded many eyes in my eyes.
Eyes which have killed him.
I dawned on strange streets
I have drunk the liquor of all bars.
Many times I have sworn in vain
and have assured before the interested
would never do.
But I never kept my word.
I returned to stumble a thousand times in the same stone.
Again I go uncertain roads, empty, everyday
and returned to fill a full moon.
I searched the roads leading to the sea
trying to find a shelter.
Trying to leave my footprints in the sand if you are looking for me.

Manuel Vicente S.C. lives in Albatera, Alicante, Spain.

Antigay Hate Groups on the Rise

In recent years, the gay rights movement has advanced by leaps and bounds, but there is still much more we need to do. But such remarkable progress has also given rise to more and more homophobic disciplines as noxious and infuriating as the National Organization for Marriage and the Family Research Council—among many others—whom would very much like to force LGBT men and women everywhere back into the closet, which they will of course keep locked in order to protect traditional families from mere heathens like you and me.  And this is something that we cannot take for granted.

So it should come as no surprise that the number of anti-gay hate groups in the United States increased by 60% in the past year from 17 in 2010 to 27 in 2011, according to a recent Intelligence Report from the Southern Poverty Law Center (SPLC).

From the SPLC:

The LGBT community made significant advances in 2011, with the repeal of the “Don’t Act, Don’t Tell” policy on gay men and lesbians in the military, the growing acceptance of same-sex marriage by Americans and the legalization of such bonds in New York state. But it was precisely these advances that seemed to set off a furious rage on the religious right, with renewed efforts to ban or repeal marriage equality and what seemed to be an intensification of anti-gay propaganda in certain quarters. American Family Association official Bryan Fischer, for instance, said that “gays are Nazis,” claimed that HIV does not cause AIDS but gay men do, and, for good measure, criticized black welfare recipients who “rut like animals.” In another development, most of the religious right groups that started out opposing abortion but moved on to attacking LGBT people have recently begun to adopt anti-Muslim propaganda en masse. The gay-bashing Traditional Values Coalition, for instance, last year redesigned its website to emphasize a new section entitled “Islam vs. the Constitution,” published a report on Shariah law, and joined anti-Shariah conferences. Overall, the number of anti-gay hate groups in the United States rose markedly, going from 17 in 2010 to 27 last year.

SOURCES:

• New Report: Number of Antigay Hate Groups on the Rise, by Christopher Donaldson, March 22, 2012.
• The 'Patriot' Movement Explodes, by Mark Potok, Intelligence Report, Spring 2012, Issue Number: 145.
• Southern Poverty Law Center, from Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.

Springtime

I had planned on writing this post after I got home from church, hoping that something in the sermon would inspire me to write something inspirational. To be completely honest, I was trying so hard not to fall asleep, that nothing really struck me to write about. There was one thing though, as our preacher was praying (he's a bit long winded at times), we always know when he is nearly finished when he begins to thank God for all of he beauty in nature: trees, flowers, creatures great and small, etc. Since spring is here and the wisteria has been blooming along with the azaleas and other flowers that remind me of spring, I too am thankful of the natural beauty that surrounds us because of God's blessings.

Moment of Zen: Life Is Good

Spring has sprung. I love this time of year.
Spring is a time of rebirth, renewal and regrowth, not to mention hot shirtless guys in the park.

A Little Inspiration

Each of us has been born with a genius. There is something that each of us do very well. It has been assigned to us, and yet many of us ever really pause in life to discover it deeply and then apply the other necessary ingredient. And that is drill. That is practice. That is taking that which is good and making it great. That is pursuing your niche. That is unveiling your uniqueness. That is finding your voice and learning how to vocalize - not like everybody else - but your way. That requires you to at times to swim upstream, to go against the flow, to stand out in the crowd declaring – ‘here I am, and here is what I offer to create a much better world – that is now better because I have not hidden my gift – and have risked rejection by bringing it forth in public.

~Peter G. James Sinclair

Peter G. James Sinclair is the international best selling author of a number of highly acclaimed motivational books including Good Things Don’t Come To Those Who Wait. The title of this book summarizes his philosophy, which he carries over and into all his business ventures.


SOURCE: AOM SoulFood (NSFW)

Normal?

What is normal?  Everyone seems to have their own definition of what makes up normal.  Merriam-Webster defines it as "according with, constituting, or not deviating from a norm, rule, or principle." We mean that he or she is like everyone else, behaves as most people behave, and stays within current conventions. The idea of what is normal changes from one decade to another.

Behavior can be normal for an individual when it is consistent with the most common behavior for that person. "Normal" is also used to describe when someone's behavior conforms to the most common behavior in society. Definitions of normality vary by person, time, place, and situation – it changes along with changing societal standards and norms. Normal behavior is often only recognized in contrast to abnormality. In its simplest form, normality is seen as good while abnormality is seen as bad. Someone being seen as "normal" or "not normal" can have social ramifications, including being included, excluded or stigmatized by larger society.

Although it is difficult to define normality, since it is a flexible concept, the existence of these ramifications also makes it an important definition. The study of what is normal is called normatology – this field attempts to develop an operational definition distinguishing between normality and abnormality (or pathology). The general question of 'what is normal' is discussed in many fields, including philosophy, psychology and sociology.

As part of the LGBT community, we are often seen by some as being abnormal, but really that is just an aberration.  Because we are all unique, I don't think there truly is anything as normal or abnormal.  Teaching high school and college, I've known many students who buck the norm.  They want to be different, and they have no desire to be like all of the others.  Our former principal believed that for those who were outside the norm, bullying them back into the fold was natural and worth encouraging.  I, and most of the other teachers, believed that he could not be more wrong.  The uniqueness of students, and people in general, are what makes us such a wonderful society.  We don't live in a totalitarian society or even a utopia where everyone is the same and there is no reason for normal v. abnormal.  For me, such a society would be a very boring place.  Instead, it takes all of our uniqueness to make the world a better place.  We all have our talents and individuality.

How can we claim that just because someone is different (especially when we are all different in some way) that anything is abnormal?  The definitions of normal and abnormal have long been reasons used for discrimination and hatred.  We all have a little bit of discrimination in us.  We all look at someone and think: they are a bit odd.  Truthfully though, we should embrace those differences and allow the world to be a better place for it.

We should embrace the rainbow of diversity. The use of rainbow flags as a sign of diversity, inclusiveness, hope and of yearning has a long history. This denotation goes back to the rainbow as a symbol of biblical promise. Aside from the obvious symbolism of a mixed LGBT community, the colors were designed to symbolize: red (life), orange (healing), yellow (sunlight), green (nature), blue (harmony), and purple/violet (spirit). Just as one of the most well-recognized symbols within our community denotes diversity, why would we even want a world that was "normal"?

Hangovers

Sometimes (not often) the hangover is worth it.  I had a great time with a few friends in New Orleans on Monday.  New Orleans is one of my favorite cities, but those hurricanes will kick your ass.  I felt it yesterday morning.  It didn't help that I had to drive back to Alabama when I got up that morning.  So I felt a bit like the guy in the picture above.  Thank God for Starbucks Vanilla Lattes, LOL.  Oh well, sometimes the hangover is worth it.  There is nothing quite like sitting on a patio in New Orleans having drinks with friends.

You, Therefore

How does a person say “I love you” in our post-ironic age and not sound greeting-card vapid? In “You, Therefore,” Reginald Shepherd (b. 1963) manages the trick. He doesn’t avoid romantic clichés: you’ll find the moon and stars, scads of flowers, a rain-speckled bower, the heaving sea, strawberries, and a soft-focus snowbound bedroom vignette. Shepherd takes these hoary materials, however, and presents them with the awkwardness, stuttering, and pseudologic of a man choked by passion. The poem is a single meandering sentence with peculiar repetitions (“if I say to you, ‘To you I say’”); faulty grammar (“you” are “a kind of dwell and welcome”); odd puns (“you . . . have come to be my night”—oh Lancelot!); overheated sound play (“like the sea, salt-sweet . . . trees and seas have flown away”); and attempts to qualify or take back things just asserted (“the snow was you, / when there was snow”). The style saves the subject by roughening and skewing it, giving it the feel of authenticity (a little like antiquing a piece of furniture, perhaps). Shepherd conveys persuasively the way somebody can “fall from the sky” into your life and renew it utterly, giving you the home you’d been seeking for years.

You, Therefore
By Reginald Shepherd

For Robert Philen

You are like me, you will die too, but not today:   
you, incommensurate, therefore the hours shine:   
if I say to you “To you I say,” you have not been   
set to music, or broadcast live on the ghost   
radio, may never be an oil painting or
Old Master’s charcoal sketch: you are
a concordance of person, number, voice,
and place, strawberries spread through your name
as if it were budding shrubs, how you remind me   
of some spring, the waters as cool and clear
(late rain clings to your leaves, shaken by light wind),   
which is where you occur in grassy moonlight:   
and you are a lily, an aster, white trillium
or viburnum, by all rights mine, white star   
in the meadow sky, the snow still arriving
from its earthwards journeys, here where there is   
no snow (I dreamed the snow was you,
when there was snow), you are my right,
have come to be my night (your body takes on   
the dimensions of sleep, the shape of sleep   
becomes you): and you fall from the sky
with several flowers, words spill from your mouth
in waves, your lips taste like the sea, salt-sweet (trees   
and seas have flown away, I call it
loving you): home is nowhere, therefore you,   
a kind of dwell and welcome, song after all,   
and free of any eden we can name

Reprinted from Fata Morgana by Reginald Shepherd, published by the University of Pittsburgh Press. Copyright © 2007 by Reginald Shepherd.

Source: Fata Morgana (2007)

Reginald Shepherd

Poet and editor Reginald Shepherd was born in New York City in 1963 and grew up in the Bronx. He earned a BA from Bennington College and studied at Brown University and the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. His first collection, Some Are Drowning (1994), won the Associated Writing Program’s Award in Poetry; his fourth, Otherhood (2003), was a finalist for the Lenore Marshall Poetry Prize; and his last book, Fata Morgana (2007), won a Silver Medal in the Florida Book Awards. Shepherd’s work is known for its elegance, beauty, and critical acumen. As Ron Silliman wrote in a tribute to Shepherd, who died in 2008, “Shepherd took from all schools and created something entirely his own.” Shepherd was the author of a book of essays, Orpheus in the Bronx: Essays on Identity, Politics, and the Freedom of Poetry (2008), and the editor of two anthologies, The Iowa Anthology of New American Poetries (2004) and Lyric Postmodernisms (2008). He was also an active blogger, helping to shape an emerging forum for poetics.

Mimosas and Mame

Yesterday, I had a nice relaxing day. Something I have needed for weeks. I am visiting a friend of mine, and we went to brunch after we got up late Sunday morning. After crab cakes, eggs, Cajun potatoes, cheese grits, and mimosas, we decided to head back home, take a nap, then went for sushi for dinner. The food was wonderful, so we decided to make the best of the evening and had more mimosas while watching Auntie Mame, one of our favorite movies.

The movie Auntie Mame is centered on the main character, Mame, an unconventional individualist socialite from the roaring 20's. When her brother dies, she is forced to raise her nephew Patrick. However, Patrick's father has designated an executor to his will to protect the boy from absorbing too much of Mame's rather unconventional perspective. Patrick and Mame become devoted to each other in spite of this restriction, and together journey through Patrick's childhood and the great depression, amidst some rather zaney adventures.

The movie was based on the book by Patrick Dennis. Patrick Dennis was an American author, whose novel Auntie Mame: An Irreverent Escapade (1955) was one of the bestselling American books of the 20th century. In chronological vignettes "Patrick" recalls his adventures growing up under the wing of his madcap aunt, Mame Dennis. Dennis wrote a sequel, Around the World with Auntie Mame, in 1958.

Throughout his life, Dennis struggled with his bisexuality, later becoming a well-known participant in Greenwich Village's gay scene.

Dennis' work fell out of fashion in the 1970s, and all of his books went out of print. In his later years, he left writing to become a butler, a job that his friends reported he enjoyed. At one time, he worked for Ray Kroc, the founder of McDonald's. Although he was at long last using his real name, Edward Everett Tanner III, he was in essence working yet again under a pseudonym; his employers had no inkling that their butler, Tanner, was the world-famous author Patrick Dennis.

He died from pancreatic cancer in Manhattan at the age of 55 in November 1976.

At the turn of the 21st century there was a resurgence of interest in his work, and subsequently many of his novels are once again available. His son, Dr. Michael Tanner, wrote introductions to several reissues of his father's books. Some of Dennis' original manuscripts are held at Yale University, others at Boston University.

To every thing there is a season

Ecclesiastes 3

 1To, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

 2A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;

 3A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;

 4A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

 5A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

 6A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;

 7A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

 8A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.

 9What profit hath he that worketh in that wherein he laboureth?

 10I have seen the travail, which God hath given to the sons of men to be exercised in it.

 11He hath made every thing beautiful in his time: also he hath set the world in their heart, so that no man can find out the work that God maketh from the beginning to the end.

 12I know that there is no good in them, but for a man to rejoice, and to do good in his life.

 13And also that every man should eat and drink, and enjoy the good of all his labour, it is the gift of God.

 14I know that, whatsoever God doeth, it shall be for ever: nothing can be put to it, nor any thing taken from it: and God doeth it, that men should fear before him.

 15That which hath been is now; and that which is to be hath already been; and God requireth that which is past.

 16And moreover I saw under the sun the place of judgment, that wickedness was there; and the place of righteousness, that iniquity was there.

 17I said in mine heart, God shall judge the righteous and the wicked: for there is a time there for every purpose and for every work.

 18I said in mine heart concerning the estate of the sons of men, that God might manifest them, and that they might see that they themselves are beasts.

 19For that which befalleth the sons of men befalleth beasts; even one thing befalleth them: as the one dieth, so dieth the other; yea, they have all one breath; so that a man hath no preeminence above a beast: for all is vanity.

 20All go unto one place; all are of the dust, and all turn to dust again.

 21Who knoweth the spirit of man that goeth upward, and the spirit of the beast that goeth downward to the earth?

 22Wherefore I perceive that there is nothing better, than that a man should rejoice in his own works; for that is his portion: for who shall bring him to see what shall be after him?

Moment of Zen: Happy St. Patrick's Day

So you think St. Patrick’s Day is all about obnoxious straight people wearing green and drinking beer in public? Well, yes—but there are some very queer things indeed about the holiday.

Herewith, are the top five reasons LGBTs should care about St. Patrick’s Day, happening Saturday, March 17. (And be sure to check out all of the best gay-themed St. Pat’s events listed on our sister site, GayCities):

1. The streets are awash in completely wasted, highly suggestible straight boys
It’s no secret that St. Patrick’s Day is basically an enabler of daytime alcohol consumption. There’s a reason the parade’s slogan is “Kiss Me I’m Irish”— it’s all about getting lucky!
For you gay guys and gals whose deepest fantasy is turning out a Hibernian hetero, St. Patrick’s Day is your chance. Boys: Find an outdoor area full of straight bros and see if one of them won’t smooch your Blarney Stone. And, ladies, straight girls are all about being exhibitionists. Buy them a few shots of Jameson, bribe the DJ to play “I Kissed A Girl,” and let the party begin.
Heck, if you go to a wild enough St. Paddy’s Day event, two dudes might even break-dance naked in front of a huge crowd, like Irish hip-hop brothers Jedward did in 2010 (link NSFW-ish).

2. It’s the one time us gays can stop caring about what we’re wearing.
“I think St. Patty’s day is a really good excuse to dress like a tool,” style maven and reality star Brad Goreski told Queerty. And it’s true: So long as it’s green and relatively unstained, you’re safe. (Fun fact: originally the color associated with Saint Patrick was blue.)
3. There are lots of famous gay Irish and Irish-Americans to raise a pint of Guinness to.
* Oscar Wilde (1854-1900, right): the quotable author and playwright spent most of his adult life as a dandy-about-town in London, but was born in Dublin.
* Francis Bacon (1909-1992): Perhaps the greatest artist to emerge from the Emerald Isle, Bacon was known for his abstract figure drawings and intense relationship with his muse and lover, George Dyer (played by Daniel Craig in the film Love is the Devil)
* Rosie O’Donnell (b. 1962) and Daniel O’Donnell (b. 1960): Rosie is the one-named talk-show host (obviously), but her out older brother Daniel is the first openly gay man elected to the New York State Assembly.
* Graham Norton (b. 1963): The UK’s version of Jay Leno, but gay—and actually funny—Norton hails from County Cork.
* Sinéad O’Connor (b. 1966): Though she’s bounced around the Kinsey scale, the controversial Irish singer announced she was a lesbian back in 2000.
* Christine Quinn (b. 1966): The influential New York City Council Speaker has all but announced her bid for mayor in 2013.
* Stephen Gately (1976-2009): One of the two lead singers of the popular British boy band Boyzone, Gately came out in a blaze of publicity in 1999 and wed his partner five years later. Sadly, Gately passed away in 2009 from an undiagnosed heart condition.
 
4. The St. Paddy’s Day parade is essentially an Irish version of a Pride parade.
Back in the 1800s and early 19oos, Irish immigrants suffered serious discrimination in the U.S—denied jobs and access to schooling, caricatured as uneducated alcoholics, and in some cases deemed an “inferior race” in comparison to Anglo-Saxons.
The St. Patrick’s Day Parade was a way for Irish-Americans to stand up and basically say “we’re here, we’re queer, get used to it!” Only, y’know, without the whole “queer” party.
Of course LGBTs aren’t always welcome at St. Patrick’s Day parades: In 1995, the Supreme Court ruled that the organizers of Boston’s parade could turn away an LGBT group based on the First Amendment. (That’s okay, it also means we can ban anyone we want from a pride parades, too!)
New York’s queer population has bitten back at the homophobic organizers of Manhattan’s exclusionary march by organizing “St. Pat’s for All,” a parade in Queens where gay marchers are welcomed.

5. The life and legacy of St. Patrick himself is kinda gay.
Ah, St. Patrick, the patron saint of Ireland, about whom so little is known but so much legend is legion. Only two of his letters remain in existence and one, Declaration, concerns charges made against him by fellow Christians during a trial. Historians don’t know what the charges were but Patrick made a point of returning gifts offered by wealthy women and paying for the sons of chiefs to accompany him on his sojourns. (Was he the Ancient World’s answer to George Alan Rekers?)
Plus, the two miracles most closely associated with St. Pat are pretty darn phallic when you think about it: Driving the snakes out of Ireland and turning his long, hard walking stick into a tree.
I’m just saying.


Full story here: http://www.queerty.com/queertys-gay-guide-to-st-patricks-day-20120314/#ixzz1pFjCdQac

I Couldn't Help Myself: Part II

Thanks to Writer, here is another collage image of Rick Santorum, but this time it is of two men kissing and pictures of Santorum make up the collage.

I Couldn't Help Myself

I have always found these collage pictures to be fascinating, but this one comes with a twist. This photo collage of Rick Santorum is made entirely of gay pornographic images. The enlargement of this image is NSFW, so be forwarned. The pictures are still quite small if you click on the full image. I find it quite funny considering Santorum's homophobic and religiously conservative political agenda.

Elections, Gaydar, Etc.

Yesterday was the primary elections in my state.  What an eventful night it was!  First of all, I have never lived just around the corner from the courthouse before, and in a rural town like mine, it is the place to get the local results.  I live less than a block from the courthouse, and it was rockin' last night.  There were parties all around the courthouse square.

I was hanging out with a friend of mine while her husband was over at one of the election parties.  We decided to drive by the courthouse and see what was going on, when I spotted who I thought was her husband at one of the offices near the courthouse.  She called him, just to see what he was doing and really to check and see if that was him (it wasn't like he was somewhere he wasn't supposed to be, she just wanted to make sure that was him).  It turns out that it was him, so we came back by so that we could take him some beer.  We parked and he and another guy walked up to the car.  As soon as the guy with my friend's husband walked up, my gaydar went off immediately, but I didn't say anything.  I thought I would see where this was going.  The stranger was quite cute, a bit young (he was 21), and very drunk.  They were talking, and it was quite obvious that he was one of those people who thought he was "someone" mainly because he had family political connections.  In other words, he was a total douche, and I don't use that word very often.  Once he figured out that my friend was the wife of the guy he had, as I found out later, been hitting on all night, he was not a very nice person to her. Like I said, he was a douche.  It was not a good confrontation since my friends husband did not take well to the fact that he was disrespecting his wife.  Nothing happened, but the guy finally figured out that he had been barking up the wrong tree.

So let me back up a bit and explain what had happened the previous two hours before we got there. Apparently, this guy had become real friendly with my friend's husband and they had been having a good time.  I suspect the guy is in the closet and has not had enough experience at 21 to hone his gaydar skills, because there is nothing even remotely gay about my friend's husband.  Growing up in the rural South, you develop a good gaydar so that you don't hit on the wrong guy, and mine has never failed me.  Though my friend's husband is quite attractive and has one of the finest butts in the country, if not the state, the stranger had barked up the wrong tree with this one.  My friend got pretty mad about the whole thing until I explained to her that he was obviously a closet case, who was drunk and had been raised to be a prick (this particular political family are all pricks, if I told you who they were you would understand immediately). Once she realized that the real reason that he was rude to her was not because he was looking down on her or anything, but the fact was he had gotten cock-blocked by the wife and didn't like it.  In fact, he was probably a bit embarrassed.  My friends husband is a bit clueless about these things, but he had never figured out that the guy had been hitting on him for the past two hours.  And if you are wondering what tipped of my gaydar, there were a few stereotypical things about his mannerism, but the fact that he never once looked at my friend, even though he was talking to her, but checking out the husband and then evaluating me to see if I was worth moving on to, but he didn't get quite that far. Even if I think he could have been a fun little fling, the only thing I would have gotten out of that deal was to be able to say I screwed "insert asshole political family here" instead of them screwing us as they have for nearly twenty years.

Hideous Monument

So that was my interesting night, or sort of interesting.  Not a lot goes on in this town, but I was amazed at how busy the courthouse and surrounding area was tonight.  In other news, I can't believe that Rick Santorum  won my state's Republican Primary.  I had thought Newt would have won here.  I voted in the Democratic Primary because of some local races for which I needed to vote for the candidates.  The other things that I cannot understand is that for Chief Justice of the State Supreme Court, the Republicans voted for Roy "the Ten Commandments Judge"  Moore.  First of all, he was the state Chief Justice until he defied a court order about removing that hideous Ten Commandments Monument, and had subsequently been removed from office  for violating federal laws and state ethics codes.  Yet, these dumbass Republicans (sorry if you are a Republican that read this) voted for him again.  I do hope that the Democrats have a viable candidate that can defeat him in the general election.

Oscar Wilde and Lord Alfred Douglas

Oscar and Bosie, as his friends called Lord Alfred Douglas, met in Chelsea when Bosie was 22 and Wilde 15 years his elder. Oscar immediately became enamored with Bosie who was thrilled that such a literary genius was interested in him.  Bosie referred to Wilde as "the most chivalrous friend in the world" and was willing to forsake his birthright for the friendship. They exchanged letters, with some of Wilde's containing what could be interpreted as expressions of passionate love.

"It is a marvel that those red-roseleaf lips of yours should be made no less for the madness of music and song than for the madness of kissing," Wilde wrote to Lord Alfred in 1893. "Your slim gilt soul walks between passion and poetry."

Bosie knew of Wilde's affection for him early on and succeeded in using it to his advantage. He relied on Wilde's money when his own ran out and would pout and threaten self-injury when Wilde complained of his behavior or criticized his literary skills. For the length of their relationship, Lord Alfred used Oscar's love for him as a means to get what he wanted. In the end, Wilde sacrificed himself to protect Lord Alfred, who remained a loyal, yet manipulative, friend.

For Wilde, who was much more low-key about his sexuality, it was a love-hate relationship, almost akin to the moth and flame. He lusted for Lord Alfred, but knew that Bosie would only hurt him. His head told him the cost of Bosie's love was too expensive, his heart considered it a bargain.

"Wilde wanted a consuming passion," Ellman wrote. "He got it and was consumed by it."

When Wilde was put on trial for his homosexuality, Edward Carson questioned Wilde about two poems written by Lord Douglas that appeared in the issue of The Chameleon that contained Wilde's "Phrases and Philosophies for the Use of the Young."  The two poems were "Two Loves" and "In Praise of Shame."

Two Loves
Lord Alfred Douglas

I dreamed I stood upon a little hill,
And at my feet there lay a ground, that seemed
Like a waste garden, flowering at its will
With buds and blossoms. There were pools that dreamed
Black and unruffled; there were white lilies
A few, and crocuses, and violets
Purple or pale, snake-like fritillaries
Scarce seen for the rank grass, and through green nets
Blue eyes of shy peryenche winked in the sun.
And there were curious flowers, before unknown,
Flowers that were stained with moonlight, or with shades
Of Nature's willful moods; and here a one
That had drunk in the transitory tone
Of one brief moment in a sunset; blades
Of grass that in an hundred springs had been
Slowly but exquisitely nurtured by the stars,
And watered with the scented dew long cupped
In lilies, that for rays of sun had seen
Only God's glory, for never a sunrise mars
The luminous air of Heaven. Beyond, abrupt,
A grey stone wall. o'ergrown with velvet moss
Uprose; and gazing I stood long, all mazed
To see a place so strange, so sweet, so fair.
And as I stood and marvelled, lo! across
The garden came a youth; one hand he raised
To shield him from the sun, his wind-tossed hair
Was twined with flowers, and in his hand he bore
A purple bunch of bursting grapes, his eyes
Were clear as crystal, naked all was he,
White as the snow on pathless mountains frore,
Red were his lips as red wine-spilith that dyes
A marble floor, his brow chalcedony.
And he came near me, with his lips uncurled
And kind, and caught my hand and kissed my mouth,
And gave me grapes to eat, and said, 'Sweet friend,
Come I will show thee shadows of the world
And images of life. See from the South
Comes the pale pageant that hath never an end.'
And lo! within the garden of my dream
I saw two walking on a shining plain
Of golden light. The one did joyous seem
And fair and blooming, and a sweet refrain
Came from his lips; he sang of pretty maids
And joyous love of comely girl and boy,
His eyes were bright, and 'mid the dancing blades
Of golden grass his feet did trip for joy;
And in his hand he held an ivory lute
With strings of gold that were as maidens' hair,
And sang with voice as tuneful as a flute,
And round his neck three chains of roses were.
But he that was his comrade walked aside;
He was full sad and sweet, and his large eyes
Were strange with wondrous brightness, staring wide
With gazing; and he sighed with many sighs
That moved me, and his cheeks were wan and white
Like pallid lilies, and his lips were red
Like poppies, and his hands he clenched tight,
And yet again unclenched, and his head
Was wreathed with moon-flowers pale as lips of death.
A purple robe he wore, o'erwrought in gold
With the device of a great snake, whose breath
Was fiery flame: which when I did behold
I fell a-weeping, and I cried, 'Sweet youth,
Tell me why, sad and sighing, thou dost rove
These pleasent realms? I pray thee speak me sooth
What is thy name?' He said, 'My name is Love.'
Then straight the first did turn himself to me
And cried, 'He lieth, for his name is Shame,
But I am Love, and I was wont to be
Alone in this fair garden, till he came
Unasked by night; I am true Love, I fill
The hearts of boy and girl with mutual flame.'
Then sighing, said the other, 'Have thy will,
I am the love that dare not speak its name.'

In Praise of Shame

Lord Alfred Douglas

Last night unto my bed bethought there came
Our lady of strange dreams, and from an urn
She poured live fire, so that mine eyes did burn
At the sight of it.  Anon the floating fame
Took many shapes, and one cried: "I am shame
That walks with Love, I am most wise to turn
Cold lips and limbs to fire; therefore discern
And see my loveliness, and praise my name."

And afterwords, in radiant garments dressed
With sound of flutes and laughing of glad lips,
A pomp of all the passions passed along
All the night through; till the white phantom ships
Of dawn sailed in. Whereat I said this song,
"Of all sweet passions Shame is the loveliest."

At the trial, Wilde was asked if he saw any improper suggestions in the two poems.  Wilde's response to Carson's question as to what was "the love that dare not speak its name" provided one of the most memorable moments of a memorable trial.

What is “the love that dares not speak its name?”

Wilde: “The love that dares not speak its name” in this century is such a great affection of an elder for a younger man as there was between David and Jonathan, such as Plato made the very basis of his philosophy, and such as you find in the sonnets of Michelangelo and Shakespeare. It is that deep spiritual affection that is as pure as it is perfect. It dictates and pervades great works of art, like those of Shakespeare and Michelangelo, and those two letters of mine, such as they are. It is in this century misunderstood, so much misunderstood that it may be described as “The love that dares not speak its name,” and on that account of it I am placed where I am now. It is beautiful, it is fine, it is the noblest form of affection. There is nothing unnatural about it. It is intellectual, and it repeatedly exists between an older and a younger man, when the older man has intellect, and the younger man has all the joy, hope and glamour of life before him. That it should be so, the world does not understand. The world mocks at it, and sometimes puts one in the pillory for it.

Since Saturday is St. Patrick's day, I wanted to post poetry by Ireland's most famous literary homosexual.  The poems above are by Lord Alfred Douglas, Wilde's lover, but I also wanted to add a poem by Wilde himself, and this is one of my favorites.

The True Knowledge
Oscar Wilde

Thou knowest all; I seek in vain
What lands to till or sow with seed -
The land is black with briar and weed,
Nor cares for falling tears or rain.

Thou knowest all; I sit and wait
With blinded eyes and hands that fail,
Till the last lifting of the veil
And the first opening of the gate.

Thou knowest all; I cannot see.
I trust I shall not live in vain,
I know that we shall meet again
In some divine eternity.

Former Gay Porn Star Allowed To Teach After Being Fired

Every so often, we hear a news story about a teacher who was fired after their (often minimal) porn industry past caught up with them. The ratio of male to female teachers fired for their on-camera escapades is disproportionate; there are far more female teachers who have been fired for appearing in porn than male teachers. Is this because there are more female teachers who have appeared in porn? Perhaps. Similarly, though, the men that are fired for their dalliances are usually ones who have worked in gay porn. Is the stigma placed upon the performer dependent upon their sex/sexuality? Perhaps the stigma that is placed upon women and gay men who have worked in the porn industry comes from the concept of permissiveness or deviance that heterosexual males–frequently the insertive partners in porn–do not carry with them.

Shawn Loftis, whose porn name was Collin O'Neal, is an American gay pornographic actor and director who appears in gay porn films and magazines. He has used his real name as a substitute teacher, his teacher's certification was revoked in April 2011, after being revealed his gay porn past -he quit active porn filming in the spring of 2010- and being suspended from his substitute teaching position in the Miami-Dade County Public Schools in January 2011.

When Loftis was suspended from his teaching job in January, the school district justified their decision by citing Rule 6Gx13-4A-1.21, which states that school faculty, “are expected to conduct themselves, both in their employment and in the community, in a manner that will reflect credit upon themselves and the school system.” From seeing this rule, two questions can be raised. One, how can this rule be enforced and what are its parameters? Secondly, who decides what “reflects credit”?

The 36-year-old is a graduate of Florida International University, where he studied international relations with a focus on the Middle East, according to the Toronto Sun. In addition to his teaching endeavors, Loftis also worked as a citizen reporter for CNN iReport, and Loftis has a master’s degree in public administration from the University of Miami, is a citizen reporter for CNN and left the porn industry to get his teaching credential. Loftis seems to be entirely “credible.” Also, while Loftis was in the industry, he was a successful entrepreneur, creating an eponymous production company and series, “World of Men.”  

There are many reasons that people go into porn. While one can never assume why someone is in the industry, many fall into it when they do not have the means to do other jobs. When they get the means, or are done with the industry for whatever reason, and would like to find employment outside of sex work, they are turned away or fired from jobs because they did porn. Have you looked at the price of tuition at FIU or Miami?  FIU is roughly $20,000 per year for undergraduates and Miami is nearly $45,000 per year for graduate students.  No wonder he went into porn, with that body he could definitely use it to make money to pay for his education.

How can former members of the porn industry, which employs roughly 12,000 people a year in California alone, be denied jobs because they are “morally abhorrent”? Where is the line of demarcation that decides when a part of someone’s past does not “reflect credit?”

As LA Weekly is reporting, Shawn Loftis will not only be permitted to teach, but will also be eligible to apply for a permanent position as an educator. He will, however, reportedly remain on probation for two years.

Loftis, who had been working as a substitute teacher at numerous Miami area schools when he was dismissed last year after a principal discovered his films on a website, praised the Florida Education Practices Commission's decision to overrule his termination. "This is my past and I left it behind," he told LA Weekly, noting that his work as a porn actor and director was not illegal. "I can use my experiences in life to teach kids. The key point is that they said when you go back to the classroom and a student brings this up to you, you will be able to handle that. I thought that was highly progressive of them."

Loftis' case mirrors that of Kevin Hogan, a Boston-based English teacher who was placed on administrative leave after Fox News broke the news that he had acted under the pseudonym "Hytch Cawke" in gay pornographic movies like "Fetish World" and "Just Gone Gay 8," which were released in 2010. In addition, a California junior high teacher was reportedly placed on paid administrative leave earlier this month amid allegations that she appeared in a pornographic video, the Associated Press reports.

I personally am pleased that Shawn was given his job back.  He is well educated, and besides, I'd love to have someone this hot teaching at my school.

SOURCES:

• "Shawn Loftis, Former Gay Porn Star, Allowed To Teach After Being Fired For X-Rated Past" HuffPost Gay Voices.
• "Should former porn stars be allowed to teach?" By Karlee Johnson, Daily Sundial.

Mothers...Ugh!

My mother has a bad habit of driving me crazy sometimes.  She has always been terribly embarrassed that I am gay, and she certainly doesn't like it because she thinks that I will go to hell because of it.  One day last week, she asked me if a friend of mine knew I was gay.  I told her that she did.  My mother was very upset because she believes that if one person knows, then it will get out.  She doesn't understand what it means to keep a secret.  She's never been very good at it herself, but that is a different point.  The discussion, however, led to an interesting point.  I told her that if she understood what the Bible actually says about homosexuality, then she would understand what I believe better.  You know that I believe that what the Bible says does not pertain to modern understandings of homosexuality, and therefore, I don't think it should be applied.  I asked her if she would read a book about the subject, if I gave it to her.  I am in the middle of reading God vs. Gay?: The Religious Case for Equality, and I want her to read it when I am finished reading it myself.  She has a tremendous interest in understanding and studying the Bible: how the Bible was written? who wrote it? when and how were the books of the Bible chosen? what is the history of the Bible? etc. God vs. Gay?: The Religious Case for Equality, from what I have read of it so far, lays out a well researched and logical argument that there is not a conflict between God and gays.  I do hope that she will read it, and that it will help her to see that I am not doomed to Hell for my homosexuality.  I am a good person, the person who she reared me to be, and I want her to understand that.  I think all of our mothers make us mad at one time or another, but I want a better relationship with my mother. Since I came out to her several years ago, our relationship has always been a bit strained, and I don't like that.

By the way, even though my blog is called The Closet Professor, I do not actually consider myself in the closet.  I do not change the way I act around people, and those who I feel have the right to know, do know, and those who I feel have no right to know, do not know.  Most of those at the school I teach do not know that I am gay, simply because they would not allow me to teach there if certain people knew.  I can do more work teaching tolerance without publicly proclaiming my sexuality then not having a job and not having the chance to do so. I work each day to teach these kids tolerance.  In the rural South, teaching tolerance is not always an easy job, and it takes time, but with persistence, it will be done.

Moment of Zen: Blue Eyes

Beautiful blue eyes on a guy have always made me weak in the knees.

Funny Friday

Confused Bank Robber

Two lovers fall on hard times and decided to rob a bank together.
The first lover plans the robbery and goes over the plan with the second lover in great detail.
The robbery begins.
The first lover drives up in front of the bank, stops the car and says to the other lover, "I want to make absolutely sure you understand the plan. You are supposed to be in and out of the bank in no more than three minutes with the cash. Do you understand the plan?"
"Perfectly," he said.
He goes in the bank while the other waits in the getaway car.
One minute passes, two minutes pass...seven minutes pass - and the first lover is really stressing out.
Finally, the bank doors burst open and out he comes. He's got a safe wrapped up in rope and is dragging it to the car.
About the time he gets the safe in the trunk of the car, the bank doors burst open again with the security guard coming out.
The guard's pants and underwear are down around his ankles while he is firing his weapon.
As the guys are getting away, the first lover says "I thought you understood the plan!"
The second lover said, "I did! I did exactly what you said!"
"No, you idiot," he replied. "You got it all mixed up. I said tie up the GUARD and blow the SAFE!"

Blowing Smoke

Three guys are arrested in an adult book store and appear before the judge. He asks the first guy to stand:
"What is your name?" he asked.
"John," the guy answered.
"And why were you arrested?" the judge asked.
"I was by the magazine rack holding a big fat cigar and blowing smoke." he answered.
The judge didn't see anything wrong with that, so he dismissed the guy and called up the next one.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"John," the guy answered.
"Why were you arrested?" the Judge asked.
"I was by the magazine rack holding a big fat cigar and blowing smoke." he answered.
Again, the judge saw nothing offensive, 'This so-called adult store is beginning to sound more like a smoking club!' he thought. So he dismissed the charge and called up the next guy.
"What's your name?? No wait, let me guess; John." he said.
"No," said the guy, "My name is Smoke."

Gay Parrot

A guy decides that maybe he'd like to have a pet and goes to a pet shop.
After looking around he spots a parrot sitting on a little perch; it doesn't have any feet or legs. The guy says out loud, "Geez, I wonder what happened to this parrot?"
"I was born this way," says the parrot. "I'm a defective parrot."
"Ha, ha," the guy laughs. "It sounded like this parrot actually understood what I said and answered me."
"I understand every word," says the parrot. "I am a highly intelligent and thoroughly educated bird."
"Yeah?" the guy asks. "Then answer this: how do you hang onto your perch without any feet?"
"Well," the parrot says, "this is a little embarrassing, but since you asked, I will tell you. I wrap my little parrot penis around this wooden bar, kind of like a little hook. You can't see it because of my feathers."
"Wow," says the guy, "you really can understand and answer; can't you?"
"Of course. I speak both Spanish and English. I can converse with reasonable competence on almost any subject: politics, religion, sports, physics, philosophy. And I am especially good at ornithology. You should buy me; I am a great companion."
The guy looks at the $200.00 price tag. He says. "I can't afford that."
"Pssst," the parrot hisses, motioning the guy over with one wing. "Nobody wants me because I don't have any feet. You can get me for $20.00; just make an offer."
The guy offers twenty dollars and walks out with the parrot. Weeks go by and the parrot is sensational. He's funny; he's interesting; he's a great pal, he understands everything, sympathizes, and gives good advice. The guy is delighted.
One day the guy comes home from work and the parrot says, "Pssst," and motions him over with one wing. The guy goes up close to the cage. "I don't know if I should tell you this or not," says the parrot, "but it's about your lover and the mailman."
"What?" asks the guy.
"Well," the parrot says, "when the mailman came to the door today, your lover greeted him in a pair of briefs that showed everything and kissed him on the mouth."
"What happened then?" asks the guy.
"Then the mailman came into the house and put his hand on your lovers crotch and began petting him all over," reports the parrot.
"My God!" the guy says. "Then what?"
"Then he pulled down the briefs, got down on his knees and began to lick him, starting with his chest, slowly going down and down." The parrot pauses for a long time...
"What happened? What happened?" says the frantic guy.
"That's what pisses me off. I don't know." said the parrot. "I got a hard-on, and fell off my fucking perch."

 If we can't laugh at ourselves...then who can we laugh at. I hope you guys enjoyed these little snippets of fun. Some of them are kind of old, but I still find them funny.

Short Post

This is going to be a short post for two reasons. 1) I couldn't think of anything to post on short notice. 2) I have a terrible backache that got worse all day yesterday, and as I was writing this last night, I was laying on a heating pad.  Hopefully, my backache will get better, and I will feeling like posting something for tomorrow.

The Wicked Witch is Dead (or at least gone)

Ding Dong! The Witch is dead. Which old Witch? The Wicked Witch!

Ding Dong! The Wicked Witch is dead.

This song from the Wizard of Oz played through my head all day yesterday.  It was made official yesterday that my principal accepted the other job and has left my school.  I will not have to deal with him anymore, at least that is what I was told yesterday.  In the week that he was back after a month of medical leave (due to some mental distress he was having) he only caused chaos and a lot of stress for me and many others at the school.  He was not well enough to come back, and though I hate that I feel so much joy that he is gone and that he was having some mental issues, I can't really say that I am sorry that he is gone.  I just hope that he doesn't decide he wants to come back.  The school's board seems to think that he should not, which should be the final say in the matter.

I truly do hope that he gets back into better mental health, and that he enjoys his new job.  I certainly do not wish him ill will; I am not a spiteful person at heart.  However, I, and many others, firmly believe that the school will be better off without him.  I just hope that whoever replaces him is not worse.  I am in a much better mood than I was in last week.  Unless, he is there today when I get to school, I think my mood will improve and the problems that we had last week will be behind us, and we can correct some issues.

Schrödinger's Cat

Big Bang Theory is by far my favorite show on TV right now.  It is smart and funny without being mean-spirited or too bawdy.  On one of the earlier episodes, Leonard has asked Penny out on a date.  Neither knows whether or not they should go through with it, and both end up asking the socially inept Sheldon for advice. Sheldon's answer to their queries is the story of Schrödinger's Cat.  If you would like to see the clip in which Sheldon explains Schrödinger's Cat, click this link here.  After seeing the episode several times, I decided that I would do a little research into Schrödinger's Cat and I came across the following explanatory poem from The Straight Dope.  I hope that you enjoy it as much as I did.

A STRAIGHT DOPE CLASSIC FROM CECIL'S STOREHOUSE OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE
The story of Schroedinger's cat (an epic poem)

May 7, 1982
Dear Cecil:

Cecil, you're my final hope
Of finding out the true Straight Dope
For I have been reading of Schroedinger's cat
But none of my cats are at all like that.
This unusual animal (so it is said)
Is simultaneously live and dead!
What I don't understand is just why he
Can't be one or other, unquestionably.
My future now hangs in between eigenstates.
In one I'm enlightened, the other I ain't.
If you understand, Cecil, then show me the way
And rescue my psyche from quantum decay.
But if this queer thing has perplexed even you,
Then I will and won't see you in Schroedinger's zoo.

— Randy F., Chicago

Cecil replies:

Schroedinger, Erwin! Professor of physics!
Wrote daring equations! Confounded his critics!
(Not bad, eh? Don't worry. This part of the verse
Starts off pretty good, but it gets a lot worse.)
Win saw that the theory that Newton'd invented
By Einstein's discov'ries had been badly dented.
What now? wailed his colleagues. Said Erwin, "Don't panic,
No grease monkey I, but a quantum mechanic.
Consider electrons. Now, these teeny articles
Are sometimes like waves, and then sometimes like particles.
If that's not confusing, the nuclear dance
Of electrons and suchlike is governed by chance!
No sweat, though — my theory permits us to judge
Where some of 'em is and the rest of 'em was."
Not everyone bought this. It threatened to wreck
The comforting linkage of cause and effect.
E'en Einstein had doubts, and so Schroedinger tried
To tell him what quantum mechanics implied.
Said Win to Al, "Brother, suppose we've a cat,
And inside a tube we have put that cat at —
Along with a solitaire deck and some Fritos,
A bottle of Night Train, a couple mosquitoes
(Or something else rhyming) and, oh, if you got 'em,
One vial prussic acid, one decaying ottom
Or atom — whatever — but when it emits,
A trigger device blasts the vial into bits
Which snuffs our poor kitty. The odds of this crime
Are 50 to 50 per hour each time.
The cylinder's sealed. The hour's passed away. Is
Our pussy still purring — or pushing up daisies?
Now, you'd say the cat either lives or it don't
But quantum mechanics is stubborn and won't.
Statistically speaking, the cat (goes the joke),
Is half a cat breathing and half a cat croaked.
To some this may seem a ridiculous split,
But quantum mechanics must answer, "Tough shit.
We may not know much, but one thing's fo' sho':
There's things in the cosmos that we cannot know.
Shine light on electrons — you'll cause them to swerve.
The act of observing disturbs the observed —
Which ruins your test. But then if there's no testing
To see if a particle's moving or resting
Why try to conjecture? Pure useless endeavor!
We know probability — certainty, never.'
The effect of this notion? I very much fear
'Twill make doubtful all things that were formerly clear.
Till soon the cat doctors will say in reports,
"We've just flipped a coin and we've learned he's a corpse."'
So saith Herr Erwin. Quoth Albert, "You're nuts.
God doesn't play dice with the universe, putz.
I'll prove it!" he said, and the Lord knows he tried —
In vain — until fin'ly he more or less died.
Win spoke at the funeral: "Listen, dear friends,
Sweet Al was my buddy. I must make amends.
Though he doubted my theory, I'll say of this saint:
Ten-to-one he's in heaven — but five bucks says he ain't."

— Cecil Adams

Frat Star Fridays!

I had planned on writing this post for last Friday, but with everything that was going on, I'm embarrassed to say, that I forgot. However, I want to introduce you to a new blogger, Frat Star. Frat Star has his own blog, A Bi Kid's Life, along with two other bloggers. After a short hiatus, they are back to blogging. I was introduced to Frat Star's writing by a friend of mine and have found it a wonderful change of pace. Frat Star also writes for BI LIKE ME every Friday in a segment called Frat Star Fridays. I hope that you will check out his writing because I think you will find it interesting.

On the most recent post by Frat Star on BI LIKE ME, he writes about his relationship with women, and I think that many of us can identify with:

I come from a family of strong women, and that prototype is still sexy to me. To some extent, I wish I was straight just so that I could fall in love with one of these women and learn to grow with them. I understand them. I like them. I just can't have sex with them anymore, because I've found that I connect with men far more. 

It may be a stereotype that gay men like strong women, but where would we be without them.  Many of my greatest friends have been strong women.

Check out Frat Star's blog, A Bi Kid's Life, I think that you will enjoy it.  And just a side note, it is apparent by Frat Star's writing that he is an intelligent young man.  He has a maturity with his language that I wish more people his age had.  It's very refreshing.